Ghost
by MikaylaRose
Summary: "She had a sixth sense and the family thinks I might have inherited it." Greg Sanders starts seeing double after finding the ghost of Tabby Lawson- a recently deceased victim- at a crime scene. As the only one able to see her, Greg must help Tabby uncover the mystery surrounding her murder whilst trying not to arouse suspicion from the rest of his concerned team.
1. Seeing Things

**Welcome!  
The basic concept of this fic came to me when I started re-watching the entire show from season 1, mainly after seeing "Spellbound" and "Toe Tags." I know the whole, 'helping-a-ghost-pass-on' thing has been done before, but it hasn't been done CSI style... I hope?  
****Anyway, this story is set during season 7 sometime after "Big Shots." May end up a little AU, but that's half the fun.  
I don't own... well, much- apart from the obvious OC's and storyline.  
Hope you enjoy!  
MikalyaRose x **

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**1. SEEING THINGS**

Greg Sanders opened his eyes, coming to terms with his surroundings he rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling of his apartment. He had fallen asleep on the sofa again, surrounded by various snack foods and DVD's, his TV still on the menu screen of the last DVD he watched.

He had been given a weeks paid leave from CSI after finally settling the problems with the Demetrius James saga and majority of that week he had spent hanging around his apartment, watching old Las Vegas documentary DVD's and reading. It wasn't as if he had anything else really pressing to do. It was now the last day of his week off and Greg was very thankful to be heading into work this evening.

Greg looked over to the coffee table that sat in front of the couch, reaching over he managed to pick up his cell phone and flip it open. It was five in the morning. He had promised himself to start getting back into a good sleeping pattern towards the end of the week, however he kept forgetting. He hoped Grissom hadn't used up all of his personal coffee supplies, because he knew he was going to need it tonight.

As if someone was reading his mind, his phone began to ring in his hands. He looked down to the caller before answering it.

"Hey Grissom, what's up?" Greg asked, running his hands through his hair and looking up towards the ceiling again.

"Greg, we got a 419 a few blocks away from your apartment," Grissom's voice said on the other end of the line. "It's a 121 Collins Street. I'm a little short staffed at the moment, and I know you're not on the clock until tonight, but I could really use your help. Could you come over?"

"Um… yeah, sure Grissom," Greg said, smiling slightly. "I'll be there."

They hung up and Greg remained on the sofa for a while before slowly getting up, turning off the TV and making his way towards the bathroom. He took a quick shower to wake up before changing into jeans and a simple black t-shirt, with a fairly thick dark jacket over it. He put on his shoes before picking up his Forensic kit and heading outside, locking his door behind him and going down to his car.

He had driven along Collins Street a few times before on his way home, cutting through the back streets when wanting to avoid the traffic of the major highways, so he knew the area.

He made his way towards the street, turning down the road which was absolutely packed with people, all standing around a cream two storey house about midway down the street. It was as if the entire neighborhood had come out to stand around the house, with police cars surrounding the area and a long yellow tape around the exterior of the house.

Greg managed to park a few meters away, taking out his kit and making his way towards the house. He surveyed briefly over the crowd, seeing a frantic looking woman with her husband and young daughter talking to a police officer, all three of them wearing casual clothing with the daughter seeming fairly distant, staring off into space as her father held her hand.

Greg pushed through the crowd, going to duck under the police tape when he spied a blonde haired girl wearing light jeans and an elbow length grey top with small matching boots. She was staring towards the house, clutching her arms seeming unfazed by everything around her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Greg said, politely as he ducked under the tape and walked over to her. "This is a crime scene; could you be able to get back behind the tape please?"

At first she didn't seem to notice him, before she looked at him, her eyes widening as she gasped a little.

"Sorry," she said, a little dazed before turning around and ducking under the tape, disappearing into the crowd.

Greg shook his head a little, wondering why nobody else had noticed her before but shaking it off. Everyone was really busy after all He turned back around and began to make his way towards the front door.

"Hey Greg!"

Greg turned around again, seeing his colleague Sara Sidle emerge from the crowd, Forensic kit in hand as she ducked under the tape and hurried over to him.

"I didn't think you were starting until tonight?" she asked him, smiling.

"Grissom called me," Greg responded, as they began to walk together towards the entrance to the house, "Figured I could help out."

"Well, it's good to have you back," Sara said, kindly. "I just wrapped up a case; it's been a really busy shift."

They nodded at the police officer standing at the door, walking inside and immediately pulling out their torches, wondering along the hallway before reaching the stairs, the officer standing in front of it gesturing for them to go up.

They made their way up the stairs, looking down the hallway where Detective Jim Brass was standing outside one of the doors. The two CSI's walked towards him, Brass gesturing to inside and they entered the room.

It was a fairly large room, with a single bed, a large wardrobe and a desk in the corner, with various books piled up to the ceiling. All of the furniture really matched and apart from the books, the room was incredibly tidy and mature looking. Assistant Corner David Phillips and the CSI Grave shift supervisor Gil Grissom were bent down on the floor in the center of the room, looking down over the body of a blonde haired girl who lay face down in a pool of blood.

"Thanks for coming," Grissom said, looking up at the two CSI's before returning his gaze to the victim.

"Who was she?" Sara asked, looking down at the victim empathetically.

"Her name was Tabitha Lawson," Brass said, walking into the room reading out the notebook in his hand as Sara took out her camera and began to take photographs of the body. "Tabby to her friends. She was a 23 year old student at Western LVU, studying literature. Parents got home from a date night at around 1AM and found her; they called the ambulance straight away."

"TOD?" Greg asked, curiously.

"Rigor indicates she hasn't been moved," David informed him, taking out a thermometer from his kit and slowly sticking into the lower back of the victim, the thermometer beeping before David looked down at it. "Liver temp is about 90, so she died around 5 hours ago."

"So by the time the parents got home, she was already dead," Sara said, slowly and staring down at the body. "What about cause of death?"

"Can we roll her over David?" Grissom asked and David nodded, removing the thermometer before helping Grissom to roll her over.

There was single bullet wound on her forehead, blood splattered across her face and through her hair. Her clothes were also slightly bloodied, her grey top and jeans with small spurts of blood on them.

Greg gasped quietly, stepping back a little.

"Greg, are you okay?" Sara asked, quickly noticing her friend's expression.

Greg breathed in deeply, shining his torch across the victim a few times before shaking his head.

"I know her," he breathed, the others eyeing him suspiciously. "I mean, I've seen her. Outside, just before on my way in."

"Before?" Grissom asked, concerned for his colleague. "She's been dead for five hours Greg, how could you have seen her?"

"I swear it was her," Greg spluttered, looking to Brass. "Does she have a twin sister or something?"

"No, just a younger one," Brass replied, worried also.

Greg put down his kit before he spun around, torch in hand as he walked hastily along the hallway and down the stairs, taking two at a time as he strode towards the front door, going outside and standing where he had seen the girl before.

He looked around crazily, but she was nowhere to be seen.

This was strange, it didn't just _look_ like her, it _was_ her. She looked exactly the same apart from the obvious bullet injury in her head; same clothes, same appearance… she was alive. What was he seeing?


	2. Analysis

**2. ANALYSIS**

"Anything?" Grissom asked, coming outside to stand behind Greg.

"No, she's gone," Greg replied, scanning over the people in the crowd but with no prevail. "Maybe I was just seeing things?"

"Well, people have their own way of dealing with crime scenes," Grissom told him. "It's not unheard of. Perhaps you saw the victim and thought she looked like someone you saw outside."

"You sound like you've had this problem before?" Greg asked and Grissom immediately turned around, beginning to make his way back inside.

"You can help Sara analysis the house," Grissom ordered, as they arrived back inside the house. "She's got top floor, you've got bottom. Then meet up in the middle, and check over the other person's floor. I'll stay with the body."

Greg nodded before Sara made her way down the stairs, handing Greg his kit before smiling at Grissom as he made his way back up the stairs.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked him and Greg shook his head, sighing loudly.

"Too many scary movies over the week perhaps," Greg said and Sara smiled before returning upstairs.

Greg switched on his torch and put on some gloves. He began to walk along the front hallway, which led down into the kitchen and family room. He scanned through the kitchen, not finding anything out of the ordinary. He opened the drawers and cupboards, but there was nothing probative and checked the back door for forced entry, but it was locked and seemed undisturbed.

He made his way into the family room; however there was nothing of any relevance to the case apart from an array of university books on the coffee table, similar to the ones in the victim's room; however one of them being a science text book. He walked through the dining room and then to the formal living room, picking up one of the small framed photographs of the family. The mother was blonde like the victim; however the father and other daughter both had brown hair.

"Hey Greg, I found something," Sara called, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

Greg turned around and placed the photograph back down, walking over to Sara who led him up the stairs and to the opposite room from the victims'. It was a much younger girls' room, with bright pink wallpaper and toys littered across the floor. The bed sheets had been pulled back.

Sara handed Greg some UV glasses before she switched on the hand held UV light, revealing a cluster of white liquid on the bed sheets.

"Semen on the young girls' bed sheets," Sara told him, confused.

"I saw her outside, she looked about ten," Greg replied, slightly repulsed.

"Well semen has no place in a little girl's room," Sara stated, firmly. "Did you find anything downstairs?"

"No," Greg responded, Sara turning off the light and they took off their glasses. "No sign of forced entry and nothing seemed disturbed. Was there anything else on this floor?"

"Nothing," Sara said.

"Maybe I'll go speak to the parents about this," Greg offered, and Sara nodded. "See what they say about it."

Sara nodded as Greg left the room, making his way downstairs again and outside, crossing the front garden and heading over to the distraught looking parents who had now finished talking to the police officer and were just simply crying.

"Excuse me, are you Tabitha's parents?" Greg asked the two politely, the woman starting to cry louder before her husband placed a comforting arm around her.

"Uh, yes, well she is," he explained, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm her step-father, Bill Tamblin. This is my wife Glenda, Tabby's mother. But Tabby was like a daughter to me, her father was my best friend and I've known her since she was born. Lucy here is me and Glenda's daughter."

"I'm Greg Sanders, with the crime lab," Greg introduced and the woman slowly calmed down, wiping her nose on a very used tissue before slotting it back into her pajama pocket. "I was just wondering, Mrs. Tamblin, would I be able to speak with you for a few seconds?"

Mr. Tamblin went to speak, but his wife cut him off, gesturing for them to leave before he led his daughter over towards some of the neighbors.

"Mrs. Tamblin, would there be any reason why we would find seaman in your younger daughter's bed?" he asked, as plainly as he could.

She shook her head briskly.

"No, no way," Mrs. Tamblin responded, firmly. "I mean, sometimes I alternate the bed sheets between her and my Tabby's bed, because their beds are the same size."

"Did Tabby have a boyfriend or…?" Greg asked, but Mrs. Tamblin shook her head again.

"No," she said. "I mean, she had boy friends as in male friends. Lots of them, she had a lot more male friends than female ones. Only one of them came over though, Lewis. He's been her best friend since they were children; he's like a son to me. Oh my god, he's going to be distraught when he finds out."

"Would you be able to give me a list of some of Tabby's close friends?" Greg asked, taking out a note book and pen from his jacket pocket and Mrs. Tamblin nodded her head.

"I don't know all of them," she answered. "But I do know she was friends with this guy called Orson, she worked with him at the Coco Café. There was… some science guy too. Ryder? Ryan maybe? She liked science, but she never thought she was smart enough. He was helping her."

"Do you their last names?"

"No," Mrs. Tamblin responded. "She only really spoke about them by first name."

"Mrs. Tamblin, where you were tonight?" Greg asked.

"At The Franco, that new restraint in the city," Mrs. Tamblin explained. "We go out every Friday night, date night. Don't usually get back until late, so I make sure that Tabby finishes work early so she can look after Lucy when it starts getting late…"

Mrs. Tamblin suddenly burst into tears again and Greg stepped back a little, Mrs. Tamblin's husband running over and placing his arms around her, consoling his wife before looking up at Greg.

"I think that's all for now," Mr. Tamblin said and Greg nodded.

"Thank you for all your help," Greg said kindly, Mrs. Tamblin nodding at him before bursting into tears again. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Greg made his way back inside. Hearing the cries of the victim's family was always one of the hardest parts of the job.

Grissom left with the body to escort it back to the morgue with David, whilst Greg helped Sara finish off upstairs, each CSI collecting a few things from the rooms however the house had very little to help them. It was clear the main shooting happened in the bedroom; however there were no signs of struggle. Tabby owned very few pictures and her cell phone was locked, so they had to wait until they reached the lab to check it out.

Finally they gathered their stuff and made their way outside, the crowd now dwindling as the body had been taken away and the parents were getting ready to be taken to stay with relatives for a few weeks as the house was still a crime scene.

"See you at the lab," Sara said to Greg, walking off towards her car that as parked on the other side of the street.

Greg made his way towards his car, sitting in the front seat with his kit beside him. He turned on the ignition, looking over towards the family again, but instead of seeing three people he saw four.

It was the blonde girl again, standing behind the parents and surveying them closely, seeming not to recognize them. Greg rubbed his eyes, but the girl was still there.

"No way," he said to himself, shaking his head before turning his car around and immediately driving off, not looking back.

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**Sorry this chapter was a little science-y, but everything is important to find out who did it so remember to take note! Also, m****uch love for much for all the views and reviews everyone! x**


	3. Who Are You?

**3. WHO ARE YOU?**

Greg arrived back at the lab few moments later, getting out of his car with his kit and a few evidence bags, however not as many as they usually returned with.

He made his way inside, waving politely at the receptionist before first making his way into DNA, giving Wendy a few samples he found in the victim's bedroom. He then wondered over to Trace, Hodges making a snide comment about his hair before he gave him a few pieces of fabric he also found in the bedroom, snagged on the door edge. He could see that Sara had already dropped off a few things as they were sitting on the table beside Hodges.

"I'll page you when I'm done," Hodges said, noticing Greg starting to stare off into space. "So do go do whatever it is that you CSI's do whilst I do all the important stuff, you know breaking the case and whatnot."

Greg rolled his eyes at him before walking out of the lab. What he really needed now was coffee and a very large breakfast, clearly he wasn't thinking straight considering what he had been seeing.

He made his way along the hallway and turned into the kitchen, walking over to where he usually stashed his coffee, however the bag was empty. Sighing, he wondering aimlessly over to the fridge, but there was nothing to good there either.

Sighing even louder, he left the kitchen and made his way down to the restrooms. He figured he just needed to wake up, that was the problem. He was seeing things because he just wasn't back in routine yet, that was all.

He entered the empty restroom, walked over to the sink and turned the tap on, splashing his face with water. Looking up into the mirror he watched the droplets of water fall off his tired face, when suddenly there was someone behind him.

He gasped and turned around.

"You," he exclaimed, looking at the familiar girl. "What… are… you… who… why… are… you…?"

It was the blonde girl from earlier, the victim of his case, Tabby Lawson. She stood right in front of him, wearing the same clothes she died in, looking just as confused and scared as he did.

"You can see me!" she cried, sounding relieved.

"No! Yes… I mean, you're dead!" Greg yelled, standing right up against the wall behind him.

"Am I? I don't really know," she answered, shaking her head. "I mean, I don't feel dead, but I'm pretty sure I am. I saw myself, I was dead… and then I was alive again but no-one could see me, or hear me or anything and then you came and told me to move. I kept trying, but no-one else could see me like you did. So I figured I should find you."

"Why is it that people always come to find me when I'm a in a restroom!?" Greg asked himself, slightly frantic. "How did you find me anyway? How'd you get in here!"

"I don't know, I just kinda thought of you," the girl told him. "It was difficult, I didn't fully remember you, but after a while I got there and then I just appeared here… wherever here is?"

"You're a ghost?"

"I said, I don't know," she replied, slowly. "But you've got to help me, no-one else can. You're an investigator right? You can find out that happened to me! I can help! _They_ said I've got two weeks, two weeks to find out, or who knows what'll happen if I don't-"

"Get away from me," Greg exclaimed, backing away towards the door. "You are not real; this is all just a hallucination. Stress, it's from stress. That's it, just need some coffee. Even bad coffee, any coffee will do."

He practically fell out of the restroom, speed walking along the hallway towards the kitchen again.

"Please help me."

"AHH!" Greg screamed, jumping to the side as the girl suddenly appeared beside him. "What the hell are you doing!?"

"What are you doing?" asked a voice behind him.

Greg twirled around, his colleague Nick Stokes walking up behind him, holding some results he obviously just got back and looking at Greg concerned.

"Nick, do you see her!?" Greg asked Nick, pointing over at the girl who crossed her arms.

"He can't see me," she said, firmly.

"See what dude?" Nick asked, looking towards where Greg was pointing, but only seeing the Trace lab where Hodges was working just past the glass window.

"The girl, she's standing right there!" Greg stammered, and Nick shook her head.

"Greg, maybe you need to go home and rest," Nick suggested, placing his hand on Greg's shoulder, Greg looking down and breathing deeply.

"No, I'm fine, I'm fine," Greg stammered, looking up but the girl was still there. "Just… just a little joke. It's all fine."

"Okay, if you're sure," Nick said, Greg looking at his friend and avoiding the girl's eye. "Just take it easy, okay?"

Greg nodded as Nick walked off down the hallway, Greg looking in front of him and closing his eyes before turning slowly around to look at the girl, who merely waved at him.

"I told you," she said. "No-one else can see me except for you. So, are you going to find out what happened to me? I mean, you've seen the movies the only way the ghost can leave is if their death is resolved and I've got two weeks to do it _and_ I can't do it myself."

Greg breathed in deeply before leaning forwards and hissing, "Leave me alone."

"Okay, no need to be a jerk about it," Hodges snapped, having walked out of his lab just as Greg had spoken before he wondered off down the hallway, confused.

Greg glared at the girl, who sighed a little.

"Fine, I will," she said, softly. "I always thought it was your job to help people, regardless of their story. You know, speak for the dead and since this dead is speaking for herself, I guess you don't have to help anymore, do you!?"

With that she walked off the way Hodges had gone, leaving Greg alone in the hallway.

"And stay out!" he cried, down the hallway causing a few people to look at him confused as he seemed to call out to no-one.

"Greg? I heard you've been a bit… rowdy."

Greg turned around to see Grissom behind him, slowly removing his glasses as he surveyed Greg.

"Do you need some more time off?" Grissom continued, lowering his eyes.

"No, I'm fine," Greg stammered, quickly. "Just… need some coffee."

He walked off and returned to the kitchen, boiling himself a cup of hot coffee and using the cheap brand the lab purchased. He downed three coffees before Wendy walked in and told him that the DNA evidence he gave her all belonged to the victim and that the seamen Sara found didn't match anyone in the system. He remained in the kitchen for another drink of coffee before Hodges sent him a text message, informing him that the fabric he found was from a pair of male jeans. Greg figured Hodges didn't want to talk to him after his supposed outburst at him.

Greg wasn't sure why he had become so frantic. Years ago if an alleged ghost had come to talk to him, he would have been bouncing of the walls with excitement, but not anymore. In his three years of being a CSI, he had seen some strange things but they generally happened to other people and now that it was happening to them, it was much scarier than it seemed.

Greg stood up, figured he had slumped around for long enough and wondered through the hallway, spying Sara in one of the layout rooms.

"Hey Sara, what are you doing?" Greg asked, walking in and standing beside her, looking at the layout of tires pieces she was looking at.

"Oh, sorry Greggo got pushed onto another," Sara said, as she threw another piece of tire into a box. "It's ridiculous; this is going to be a really busy week. How is the Tabitha case going?"

"I… err… I think I might ask if I can swap with someone else," Greg stammered.

"What? Why?" Sara asked, quickly. "Greg, someone's got to handle that case, someone's got to find out what happened to her. If you don't, no-one can. We have no-one else to spare, she'll just be shoved onto a shelf with all the others."

Greg looked down. Sara made sense, but he had no leads. There was nothing, all the evidence he and Sara handed in came back with nothing. Maybe his hallucination could help, after all who better work with the victim herself?

"I sent her away," Greg said quietly.

"What?" Sara asked.

"Nothing," Greg said, quickly. "Has Doc Robbins done Tabby's autopsy?"

"Not yet, he said he'd page Grissom when he was," Sara responded. "He's backed up just as much as we are."

"Okay, well if you hear about the autopsy, let me know," Greg said, before hurrying out of the lab.

He organized to return to the crime scene and returned to his car before driving off. It was early morning now, with majority of the cars on the road belonging to people on their way to work or tourists. Greg drove back to the Collins Street house and pulled up outside, the crowd now gone but the crime tape still up with an officer at the door.

He got out of the car and made his way towards the house, fairly sure it was the place that the girl would have gone.

He let himself in and made his way upstairs, to the room at the end of the hallway where, just like he thought, the girl sat on her bed, looking down at the red blood stained into the carpet.

"I thought I'd find you here," Greg said, slightly nervously as he stood in the doorway. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you, it wasn't me. I guess, I've just had a lot of things on my plate and… well, you gotta admit it is a little weird."

The girl looked up at him and nodded slightly.

"You think it's weird for you? What about me?" she reminded him, sternly. "I woke up, in this room looking down at someone who looked just like me, but was dead. I have no idea who I am, I don't remember anything of my life and the one person who can actually see me, tells me to go away. You think you've had a lot on your plate? As least you're still alive to have a plate."

Greg lowered his eyes a little, confused by her last statement.

"Not the best analogy, I know," she continued, noticing his expression. "But what do you expect? I'm dead!"

Greg slowly walked over to her and sat down on the bed beside her.

"So, you _are_ a ghost?" he asked, after a while.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess," she responded. "I mean: I don't sleep, I don't eat, no-one can see me, my body is currently in a morgue waiting to be cut open… I'll take ghost for five hundred Alex."

She rubbed her head, making Greg feel slightly uneasy as it was around the place she had been shot.

"Why didn't you want me to be real?" she asked, suddenly. "Why did you tell yourself I was a hallucination?"

"I'm a scientist," Greg responded. "It goes against, a lot of things I've been taught. My job is to analyze what is in front me. The evidence never lies, but now… with you, and this… it's not something I'm used to."

"You and me both," she replied and Greg smiled slightly.

"Maybe we should try our meeting again," Greg proposed, and she looked over at him. "Hello, I'm Greg Sanders and I'll be your crime scene investigator for this evening."

"So, you'll help me?" she said, hopeful.

"Yeah," he responded, firmly. "I'm going to find out who did this to you and I'm going to make sure they get locked away for a very long time. Then you can finally rest in peace."

"Thank you," she responded, much more thankful than she was letting on. "But first, can you tell me what my name is? I can't seem to remember."

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**Reviews are very welcome! x**


	4. Autopsy

**4. AUTOPSY**

The sunlight flooded through the window as Tabby stood in the center of her bedroom; her feet where the pool of blood began.

"You don't remember anything?" Greg asked, standing beside her.

She closed her eyes, trying to think back but it was as if her memories had been blocked, like the pain was too unbearable that she erased them entirely. She could remember some things, her family life was flooding back to her more and more since being inside the house, but everything else was still a blur.

"No," she sighed, opened her eyes and looking to Greg. "Everything's fuzzy. I'm sorry Greg, I bet you probably thought having a ghost would help you solve the case easy, but-"

"No, I've solved cases before without ghosts," Greg cut off, quickly and moving to stand in front of her. "It would have been handy, yeah, but also a little suspicious. It's fine, we can work it out together."

"Like, me come with you?" Tabby asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I mean you don't have to," Greg stammered, quickly. "But, I figured it's another set of eyes. And you can probably see stuff I can't. Plus, half of my colleagues are running around on other cases, so I won't be getting much help from them."

"Okay," Tabby said.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I mean, I won't be much help, but I can maybe try and fill in the blanks with my memory at the same time, that could maybe give you some leads."

"Great, let's go" Greg said smiling and beginning to walk towards the door.

The two made their way downstairs, Greg thanking the officer before Tabby smiled at him, quickly realizing he couldn't see her anyway. They made their way towards Greg's car, Tabby managing to jump up into the front passenger seat and closing the door.

Greg buckled up before looking to Tabby who was about to do the same before she hesitated and stopped.

"Guess I don't need to worry about that anymore," she said, almost dejectedly.

"How did you get around?" Greg asked, suddenly and Tabby looked at him puzzled. "As in how did you get to the lab and then back here so fast?"

"Oh, I don't know," Tabby responded. "It just happens; I don't really have any control over it. Why?"

"Oh, no it's just the highway is closed and I was hoping you could transport the car 'ghost-style' back to the lab," Greg teased and Tabby shook her head, sighing a little at his comment.

He was clearly still a little in denial about Tabby, however she didn't blame him- she wasn't even sure about anything herself anymore. Greg drove back to the lab, Tabby arguing with him about the very loud, incomprehensible music he played and tried many times to turn it down, however Greg would merely switch it back up again.

"Okay, a few ground rules," Greg said, as they pulled up into a park in the lab car park. "First, don't talk to me when people are around, and if you do I am not responding because half the lab already thinks I'm going mental."

"Got it," Tabby nodded.

"And second, no more, 'ghosty-wosty-jumpy-inny-outty' stuff," he explained, Tabby rolling her eyes in response. "Cos it just creeps me out and makes me jump."

"Oh, I'm sorry does it scare you?"

"No!" Greg said, quickly. "Just, startles me that's all. It's big thing to process, and having you pop in and out every four seconds isn't going to help."

"Coming from someone who wanted me to 'ghosty-wosty' this car all the way here about half an hour ago," Tabby snapped.

"I was joking," he retorted, getting out of the car as Tabby went to open her door. "No, no, no out this way. I'm not getting the Ghostbusters up in here cos people keep seeing stuff mysteriously moving."

Tabby sighed before slipping over to the driver's seat and getting out of the car, Greg closing the door behind her and locking it.

"You're no fun," she stated, sternly

Greg led the way into the crime lab, Tabby close at his heels with Greg trying to avoid looking at her. He walked along the corridor, Grissom walking out of the office up ahead before making his way over to Greg, a stack of folders in his hand.

"Greg, just wanted to let you know that the Tabitha Lawson case is all you now," Grissom said, Greg pausing to speak with him. "I've got a suspected Homicide down on the Strip, my third case tonight. Will you be able to handle it, I know you weren't feeling to well earlier?"

Greg glanced at Tabby who shrugged her shoulders before he looked back to Grissom.

"Yeah Gris I'll be fine," he answered.

"By the way, Doc Robbins just finished the autopsy on the girl," Grissom informed him, placing his glasses on. "You better head down to the morgue since you're solo on this case now."

Grissom smiled at Greg before wondering off, leaving Greg seemingly alone in the hallway.

"Solo, yeah right," Greg whispered, under his breath.

"Autopsy," Tabby said and Greg looking to her. "They've already cut me open?"

Greg shook his head a little, feeling unable to respond.

"Ring, ring," Tabby continued, gesturing a phone in her hands before Greg quickly took out his cell phone and opened it.

"You better stay here," Greg advised, into the phone. "It's not the sort of thing you'd want to see, and I'm just saying that overall. It's difficult enough and I'm someone who deals with it all the time, it would be much harder when you're the actual body."

"No, I want to," Tabby responded. "If I'm going to help you with this case, I've got to come to terms with my own death, and what better way to do that than by being there with you."

"Tabby I don't-"

"What are you going do to stop me?" she snapped. "Shoot me? Someone's already done that."

Greg sighed loudly before closing his phone and smiling a little at Tabby. He picked up his kit before making his way back to the car with Tabby, driving them down to the City Morgue and leading the way inside.

He walked along the hallway which had bodies on surgical tables up against the walls waiting for Doc Robbins, the stench of bodies filling the air. Greg coughed slightly, looking back to Tabby who was transfixed by the lifeless bodies under the sheets.

"You really can't smell anything?" he whispered to Tabby, who shook her head.

He had seen first timers come through the morgue before, with a much stronger stench in the air than this and none of them seemed as unfathomed by everything as Tabby did. She really was a ghost.

Greg headed into the surgical room, placing a surgical gown on and spying Doc Robbins over by the table with a body ready to be examined.

"You sure you can handle this?" Greg whispered to Tabby, who immediately nodded.

"Greg, nice to see you," Doc Robins interrupted, turning around and seeing the young CSI seeming to be talking to the door. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Greg said, whirling around and smiling slightly at the Doctor. "Busy night?"

"That would be an understatement," Doc Robbins responded, as Greg made his way over to the surgical table, Tabby nervously following him. "But nothing I can't handle."

Greg looked down and sighed quietly. Tabby's body lay perfectly in the center of the table, her chest to knees covered by a clean white sheet, her skin pale and seemingly untouched with her blue eyes now white and a small hole in the middle of her head, which seemed the only part of her body apart from the large Y shape across her chest that was tainted by her death. Any second Greg expected her to move, for her eyes to go back to blue and for her to start breathing again- it was one of those cases it seemed, and it didn't make it any easier with the ghost of the body standing at the end of the surgical table.

"So, I'm presuming C.O.D was a single gunshot to the head?" Greg said, finally tearing his eyes off the body and up to Doc Robins.

"Yeah, all it takes is one bullet sometimes," he answered, making a gun his with fingers and gesturing it over the bullet hole, firing the metaphorical gun. "It went straight through her cranium and lodged itself within the inner layers of the brain, death was quick. I removed the bullet for you and sent it to ballistics. Also, I found traces of G.S.R around the bullet wound, suggests she was shot from close range."

"She knew her attacker?" Greg offered, and Doc Robbins nodded.

"Well," Doc Robbins began, turning to the side table of the surgical desk and picking up a long green trajectory rod, slowly sliding it into the open wound in her head, "she was shot from about a 90 degree angle, so she was more than likely standing. That would have given her time to try and fight back if she didn't know the killer, so yes, it's more than likely it was someone she knew."

"She didn't fight back?" Greg asked.

"Not from what I can see," Doc Robbins informed him, picking up one of the body's hands. "No foreign skin under the nails, no bruises or scratch marks. Anticipating your next question, no there was no signs of sexual trauma. It seems to me that the killer shot her and got out of there as fast as he came."

Greg nodded as Doc Robbins removed the rod, before Greg looked down at Tabby who hadn't moved. She just stared down at the body with a vacant expression. Greg went to talk to her, but looking back to Doc Robbins he withdrew.

"Can I be alone for a second," Tabby suddenly asked and Greg looked to her.

"What is it?" Doc Robbins asked, noticing Greg's sudden look to the side.

"Er…" Greg stammered, Tabby looking at him sadly. "I thought I saw someone through the window outside looking at the bodies? Is anyone meant to be out there?"

"Well, David isn't supposed to be back for a while," Doc Robbins answered, peering through the windows in the door. "Maybe I'll go take a look."

Doc Robbins picked up his cane from the nearby chair and began to make his way towards the door, Greg glancing at Tabby a little before dashing over to hold open the door for Doc Robbins.

The two men left the room, leaving Tabby alone in the morgue.

She looked down at herself. She looked so peaceful, as if she was merely sleeping.

She ran her fingers along the side of the surgical table as she made her way around the body to the side, looking into her dead eyes and down at her still body before returning her gaze to the bullet hole in her head.

How could something so small like a bullet end something so large like a life?

Tabby was overwhelmed, but couldn't seem to cry. It was as if the tears just couldn't come out.

The morgue doors suddenly opened, Doc Robbins entered with a fairly sour expression on his face before Greg followed looking quite sheepish before Greg and Tabby locked eyes, the ghost immediately disappearing.


	5. Crime Scene Photos

**5. CRIME SCENE PHOTOS**

The alarm went off and Greg hit it hard, groaning a little before sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes.

He had pulled a double yesterday, not clocking off until Sunday afternoon as he had spent the entire of yesterday hoping to find any leads in his case. Admittedly, he was also hoping for Tabby to come back.

She had disappeared yesterday in the morgue and he hadn't seen her since. He first went back to her house and then returned to the lab, but she wasn't in either places and over the day Greg began to hope she really wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

He stood up and stretched, making his way into his kitchen to have a quick meal before his shift started at eleven o'clock Sunday night after sleeping for almost eight hours which was a record for him.

He opened his refrigerator and lent down, pulling out some left over pizza from yesterday and turning to place it down on the counter. He turned back to close the refrigerator before he noticed someone standing behind the door, only illuminated by the fridge light.

"Tabby?" Greg asked, leaning back and turning on the light switch behind him, revealing the blonde girl.

He closed the door slowly and looked upon the victim of his case, her girl's eyes sad.

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I shouldn't have left you in that autopsy room, I shouldn't have even let you into the morgue in the first place-"

"I wanted to," she cut off, quickly. "I guess, this whole time I was just as in denial as you were. I wanted this whole thing to be a dream, but when I stood there and saw… myself… I guess I realized it wasn't. This is real, and until we solve this case I'm stuck here… well, until the end of next week."

"What do you mean by that?" Greg asked, leaning back against the counter behind him. "You mentioned it before, but I wasn't entirely listening to what you were saying. Too busy freaking out."

"When I died, I didn't wake up straight away," Tabby answered, slowly. "I don't remember anything fully, I just heard voices. They said I had un-finished business, but I only had two weeks to complete it."

"It's a big ask," Greg said. "I mean, some cases take months. It's very rare for a case to be solved in a few weeks."

"Yeah, but luckily for you, you have a very rare advantage," Tabby stated. "Me. How many criminalists have a ghost for a colleague?"

"Well, I wouldn't say many," Greg responded, grinning a little.

"It was rhetorical," Tabby said.

"I like a challenge," Greg teased.

Greg heated up the pizzas and ate quickly, Tabby wondering around his apartment, not wanting to watch him eat since she couldn't anymore.

"I saw these two at my house," Tabby said, picking up a picture that was framed and sitting on a shelf in the dining room. "And this guy was at the lab. Who are they?"

Greg peered around to see the photo. It was a shot taken at the lab Christmas party last year, the entire Grave Shift group was in it, including the lab technicians they often worked with.

"They're the team," Greg said, smiling. "The ones you saw were Grissom, Sara and Nick. The blonde girl is Catherine, that guy next to her is Warrick. The group at the end is the lab techs: Wendy, Archie, Henry, Mandy and the ever humble Hodges."

"You look more than just a team," Tabby observed, looking down at the photograph and smiling. "You look more a family."

"Yeah, I guess we kind of are," Greg answered, taking a sip of coffee that Tabby had made for him earlier. "Tabby, I was wondering. Where were you? When you left the morgue? I was…"

"Worried?" Tabby cut off, placing the photograph back down and walking over, sitting down on the chair opposite him. "I'm already dead Greg. At first I went down to the park. It's right behind my old house. My sister and I used to go there all the time when we were kids; it was the first place we always went to when we were upset wanted to get away. Then I went to our Aunt's house where my family were staying and watched them. Mom and Lucy didn't leave their rooms, and Dad was just pacing around the living room, muttering to himself. The only time they seemed normal was when they came down for Sunday dinner. It was chicken, like it was every Sunday at our house… and I sat in the spare seat, not speaking, just sitting. That's when I knew I had to find out who did this to me, I can't let my weeks be in vain. I'm not letting them suffer anymore; I at least need to give them some closure so they can move on. I'm sorry for leaving."

"No, it's fine," Greg answered, placing down the coffee. "I understand… I mean, I understand on a certain level… not the, ghosty-disappearing level."

When Greg finished eating he showered and changed, preparing his CSI kit before he and Tabby made their way to the car and Greg drove to the lab, the entire trip spent in silence with Tabby just gazing out of the window and not even reacting to Greg's music, which he ended up turning down himself.

Greg clocked in and greeted a few people on his way in, chatting for a while with Sara who was very frustrated having been moved to another case. Eventually, Greg made his way to one of the empty lay out rooms, gathering all the evidence from the case and laying them out across the table.

"Okay, so here's what we've got," Greg said, quickly closing the door so he and Tabby could speak freely before putting on a pair of latex gloves. "Crime scene photos, taken by Sara at the scene."

He gestured towards the photos on the far right, Tabby walking over to them and going to pick one up before stop herself.

"I remember it," she said, wistfully

"Do you remember anything before?" Greg asked, walking over to her and standing beside her, looking down at the photographs.

"No," Tabby answered, shaking her head. "I mean, I'm remembering more and more since you told me what my name was, but not about that night."

"Well, what do you remember?"

"Little things, childhood things," Tabby explained, "The thing about the park behind the house, playing dolls with Lucy, baking cakes with mom, dad and me fixing the car- nothing important."

"Everything's important," Greg answered, taking his magnifying glass out of his kit and going over the photos.

Tabby moved along the table, going over the small items gathered from the scene such as clothes and hairbrushes before reaching a familiar pair of grey shoes at the end. She looked down at her own shoes before looking up again. They were her shoes. She picked up the shoes and turned them over, looking at the now dried mud stuck to the bottom.

"Greg, what was the weather like on the day I died?" Tabby asked him, Greg looking over at her and thinking for a few moments.

"Um… okay from what I remembered," Greg answered. "I think it may have rained early during the night, maybe nine, but not for very long. Why?"

"There's dried mud under my shoes," Tabby pointed out, Greg walking over and taking the shoes from her. "I must have gone out."

"Do you remember where?" Greg asked her and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Hey Greg, I've got something for you."

Greg looked around where lab tech Wendy Simms was standing in the now open doorway, holding a small file.

"Grissom found a hair on the body at the crime scene," Wendy informed him, walking over to him and handing him the file. "Sorry it's taken so long, been just a back logged as you guys."

"Belongs to an Orson Drewer," Greg read out, Tabby peering over his shoulder to see a familiar looking mug-shot of a light shaggy haired boy amongst the file. "Was arrested three years ago for possession of illegal drugs. Attends Western LVU and works at the Coco Café."

"Same school and same job- that café is where the vic worked," Wendy said, Greg looking up at her. "Did a bit of background research."

Tabby lowered her eyes at the DNA technician before Greg thanked Wendy and she left, closing the door behind her.

"I had a job," Tabby said, taken back a little.

"I've heard of this café," Greg said, reading through Orson's case file still. "I used to go there all the time when I was a lab tech. Not so much now. You think we should go pay your pal Orson a visit?"

"Sounds good to me," Tabby responded, the two smiling at one another.

* * *

**Just letting you all know I'll be updating twice a week now, probably Tuesday and Friday so keep checking in! And also please remember to review, it means a lot! x**


	6. The Coco Cafè

**6. THE COCO CAFÈ**

They pulled up outside the small café that was just three streets away from Tabby's old house. It was a small café, tucked into the corner of a block of offices. It looked very old, with a shabby orange roof and large windows, a single row of car parks just outside of the café.

"I worked so close to home," Tabby pointed out, as they sat in Greg's car looking at the café.

"Well you didn't have a car, so I guess it made sense," Greg responded. "Walking distance, it's probably how your shoes got muddy, walking home in the rain."

"I remember," Tabby said, dazedly. "I was saving up for a car, that's why I was working here. Every week I'd put a bit of money away for a new car- the one I had before practically fell apart. Dad and I tried to fix it up, but we couldn't."

Greg looked over at Tabby who was now looking down sadly, again. Every now and then he was reminded that she wasn't alive anymore.

"C'mon," he said softly, opening his door and stepping out of the car, Tabby scurrying over and jumping out, Greg locking the car as they made their way inside.

Greg pushed open the heavy door, the café inside looked very 50's, with bright red and white tiles and tattered looking booths, with a long counter across the front of the café. There was a wall between the front counter and the kitchen behind it, a small window opening in the wall pass food through. There were a few people in the café, a large man in the corner downing a very large hamburger and a couple near the door, sharing pasta. Behind the counter was a tanned woman with dark, curly hair wearing a short blue dress and a red and white apron.

"I remember this place," Tabby said, walking around and smiling before spying the woman behind the counter who was looking at her nails, bored. "And that's Sheila! Sheila Harding, my boss and one of my best friends. Oh Shelia, I wish you could hear me."

Tabby raced over to the counter, but Sheila didn't look up.

Greg slowly approached the counter, the woman behind now looking up at him.

"Hello, welcome to the Coco Café, I'm Sheila, how may I help you?" Sheila said, fairly grimly.

"Hi, my name is Greg Sanders I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Greg introduced, Sheila standing up straight and seeming more interested.

"Are you here about what happened to my dear Tabby?" Sheila asked.

"Um, yeah," Greg said, glancing at Tabby who seemed to be enjoying being somewhere familiar. "Did you know Tabby well?"

"Of course, she was like my little sister," Sheila explained. "She started working here about two years ago. She's lived not far away so it was perfect for her. We would talk all the time, and laugh and she would always give great advice. Everyone liked her. I just can't believe she's gone."

"So you don't know of anyone who would want to hurt her?" Greg asked.

"Of course not!" Sheila said, quickly. "She was a beautiful, beautiful person but she never thought so."

Greg nodded and Tabby sighed a little.

"Hey, have I seen you before?" Sheila asked Greg, suddenly.

"Um, maybe," Greg answered, smiling a little. "I used to come here a bit a few years ago."

"That's where I saw you!" Sheila exclaimed. "You used to order the same thing, a large turkey sandwich and our very best coffee. I remember every customer. Oh, but when I saw what happened to you on the TV with that guy, I was hoping they'd see reason. You were just doing your duty, helping another man and that family should respect that."

"What happened?" Tabby asked Greg, who shook her off.

"Thank you for your support," Greg said to Shelia, kindly. "By the way, do you have an employee named Orson Drewer by any chance?"

"Yeah, he's our assistant cook," Sheila informed him. "He's in the kitchen right now. He and Tabby used to be good friends, he only came back in this afternoon after finding out about her Saturday morning. He hasn't taken a day off since he started working here. You can go talk to him if you want."

"Thank you, that would be great," Greg answered, smiling.

Sheila led Greg and Tabby around the counter and through the doors that led into the kitchen. The kitchen was very small, with only occupant being a shaggy haired employee wearing a white cook's uniform, leaning against a counter, looking to the ground.

"Orson," Tabby breathed, remembering the boy.

"Hey Drewer," Sheila said, the boy looking up at her. "This is Greg Sanders from the Crime Lab, he's here about our Tabby. You answer his questions, got it!"

Sheila nodded at Greg before leaving the kitchen.

"You know you really shouldn't lean against the cupboards in here," Greg pointed out. "It's a contamination risk."

"You've seen the café," Orson mumbled, standing up straight however still looking down. "We have about three customers a day, I'm sure I'll remember to avoid this cupboard."

Greg looked to Tabby who seemed transfixed by Orson.

"How well did you know Tabby Lawson?" Greg asked, eventually.

Orson laughed a little before looking to Greg.

"It's only Tabby to her friends," Orson snapped, quickly.

"So you were her friend?"

"You could say that," Orson replied, quickly. "She got me this job in the first place."

"After you got busted for drug possession?"

"That's was another life man," Orson explained. "Before, everything. When I first moved to Vegas from Detroit, let's just say I found myself hanging with the wrong bunch. After I got busted, they wanted nothing more to do with me. I lost my friends, my house, my life. So one day, I stumbled into this random café, a little hung-over from the night before, and she served me. Free pancakes and water to help me recover. We started talking, but she had to work so I came back the next day- paid this time, but we talked more. I came back every day for a month, just to talk to her. Then one day, I mentioned how I needed money, so she got me a job here. Then I mentioned how I needed a place, so she asked her friends if I could move in with them. She gave me a reason to stop that life, now I'm back at school and back on track… until now. I don't know what I'll do without her."

Greg considered the story. It sounded genuine. Greg looked to Tabby who seemed as if she would almost cry.

"He's telling the truth," she said, sensing Greg's thoughts. "I remembered all of the things he said the very minute I saw him. I didn't know he felt that way though, I never thought I was that important to him."

"Did Tabitha have any enemies or-?"

"No," Orson said, quickly. "She was… perfect."

Greg nodded a little, feeling slightly awkward however trying not to show it.

"What about her schedule?" Greg asked. "You knew her well, did she have any routines? Any things she did regularly? Picking up laundry? Grocery shopping?"

"Not really," Orson responded. "I mainly saw her at work, we didn't have any classes together at school. She studied literature I studied Psychics, whole different ball game. I know that every Monday, she leaves early to hang out with Ryan Wilson."

"Ryan Wilson?" Greg asked.

"Some genius science guy at our school," Orson explained. "He was apparently tutoring her in Chemistry, but I don't know, he seems a little weird. I kept telling her to stop going, but she didn't listen."

"Why was a literature student, studying chemistry outside of school?" Greg asked, looking slightly at Tabby.

"She liked science," Orson answered. "Not that she thought she was any good, not enough to change majors anyway."

"On the night of the… yeah, where were you?" Greg asked.

"Here," Orson replied. "Tabby had left at seven, said she had something on and had to go. I finished at twelve, then Sheila drove me back to the dorm."

"Thanks for all your help," Greg said, Orson saluting him before Greg looked to Tabby who was still staring at Orson. "I'll, just head out to the car."

"Whatever," Orson snickered, presuming he had spoken to him before going back to leaning against the counter, Greg walking out of the kitchen.


	7. Further Clues

**7. FURTHER CLUES**

Greg returned to his car, sliding in and placing his hands on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath. He stared into the window of the café, thinking back to the times he had gone in there years ago and wondered if in any of those times he had seen Tabby.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Tabby suddenly appeared in the car, sitting in the seat beside him.

She didn't speak; she just put her seat belt on and looked away.

"You don't have to wear that, remember?" Greg pointed out softly and she un-buckled, the seat belt slowly sliding it's way back up the seat behind her and to the side. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, quickly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You lying?"

"Yeah."

Greg looked over to her as she sighed quietly, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Have you ever, found out something," Tabby started, looking to Greg, "something you thought you knew, but you thought you were wrong and pushed it aside, but then found out later and wished you hadn't?"

Greg paused for a few moments, considering her statement.

"Yes, no… maybe," Greg stammered, causing Tabby to smile a little. "He loved you."

"Doesn't matter now," Tabby pointed out, sadly.

Greg sat back in his seat, looking forwards into the café again and placing his hands on the steering wheel in front of him again.

"Did you love him back?" he asked, after a while.

"I'm not sure," Tabby responded. "I don't think I even considered it, but if I did I don't remember. Guess I'll never know."

"You still feel things though," Greg pointed out, turning back to her. "I mean, you get angry, happy? You still feel emotions?"

"Yeah, but I can't feel what I felt before?" Tabby added. "If I ever loved Orson, I can't remember it so I guess I don't feel it now? That doesn't make any sense does it?"

"Not really, but does anything anymore?" Greg asked, Tabby shrugging a little and looking out her window.

Greg took his opportunity to reach forwards and touch her hand that was currently resting on her leg. She didn't notice for a few minutes, before turning around and lowering her eyes at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"You don't feel that?" he countered, curiously.

"I… I maybe," she responded. "I mean, I know you're there. I can see your hand there, and it's like I want to feel it, but as soon as I look away I can't. It's like, I'm reminding myself what that feels like and that's what I feel… I think."

Greg removed his hand and surveyed her. Even after a few days, it was still strange and he didn't think it would ever not be.

"Why did you do that anyway?" Tabby asked as Greg started up the car.

"Been curious about it for a while now," Greg teased, looking at her and winking. "Saw my opportunity and took it."

"Did you feel it?" Tabby asked, Greg looking taken back suddenly. "My hand, I mean?"

"No," he responded. "It was like, working with a green screen. I felt like, if I put my hand down it would go right through you. Anyway, I think we should go pay a visit to your school. See if Mr. Wilson is in."

"Good idea," Tabby commended. "You be Dennis, and I'll be the menace."

"Oh but I wanted to be the menace," Greg cried, childishly.

"You can be it next time," Tabby said.

"It won't be as 'punny' next time," Greg joked, beginning to reverse out of the car park as Tabby laughed at his terrible play on words.

They took off through the Las Vegas streets, waving their way through the city to the Western LVU campus, Tabby directing him to the science rooms and they parked in a small parking lot just outside a cream colored building.

As soon as Tabby stepped out of the car, she felt strange. It was a sense of Deja Vue but much more than that, a chill ran up her spin and her head ached for a few moments before stopping.

"This is the place," Tabby stated as Greg came to stand beside her.

He followed her out of the car park and along the path, walking through the trees until reaching the building, Greg holding open the door for Tabby before walking in. A few people eyed him suspiciously as he walked along the corridors, but he was too busy watching Tabby who seemed as if she was in a trance, hardly acknowledging Greg at all.

"In here," she gestured, pointing to a door towards the end of the hallway.

Greg led the way inside, spying a tall, white haired man standing at one of the tables, science text books sprawled out over the desk with a Bunsen burner sitting in the middle, a bunch of test tubes and measuring glasses surrounding it. The man had broad glasses and wore a white lab coat over his clothes.

Greg looked to Tabby who nodded before he slowly approached the table, the man looking up almost instantly.

"Who are you?" he asked, quickly.

"I'm Greg Sanders, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime lab," Greg introduced, standing on the other side of the desk.

With those words the man eyes lit up, he put down the book he was reading before shaking Greg's hand firmly.

"Crime lab? Like a Forensic scientist!?" he beamed. "Oh my god, you are brilliant! I am such a huge fan of you guys, fantastic work! I could never do it myself, I'm not really into blood and stuff. My younger sister broke her tooth in the back yard once- blood everywhere! I fainted of course, didn't come to for about three hours! I'm Ryan by the way, Ryan Wilson. What can I help you with?"

By now Greg had completely lost track of what the boy was saying, Tabby however seemed to be immersed in the books, running her hands over them and smiling at the Bunsen burner. It was clear she had a lot of happy memories of this place.

"You, haven't heard?" Greg asked, slowly.

Ryan shook his head, "Heard what?"

Greg looked to Tabby who was now standing right beside Ryan. They shared glance, causing Ryan to look over his shoulder trying to identify what Greg was looking at.

"Um, Tabby Lawson?" Greg said quickly, returning his eyes to Ryan. "You were her friend, right?"

Ryan looked a little shaky.

"Yes, you could say that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was her tutor," Ryan explained, stuttering a little and adjusting his glasses. "She was interested in science, but she was too scared to take the classes in case she wasn't smart enough. Wait, you said 'were' not 'are.' Is she okay?"

Greg sighed a little, Tabby moving to place a hand on Ryan's shoulder, but deciding against it.

"Tabby died, last Saturday night," Greg said slowly, Ryan's eyes immediately widening.

"What?" he gasped.

He took of his glasses and lent down on the desk, a few tears escaping his eyes so he rubbed them away quickly before looking back up at Greg.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Greg said, and Ryan nodded, slipping his glasses back on.

"I guess you, err… want to ask me some questions," Ryan stammered and Greg nodded. "Anything- anything I can do to help."

"What was your relationship with Tabby?" Greg asked.

"She was my friend, one of my only friends," Ryan explained. "I used to get teased a lot, you know, picked on for my love of Science. Tabby was respected and well liked; when she started to be nice to me the others stopped picking on me. In return for her friendship, I taught her this stuff. I never understood why someone like her would like science, or would like me… although she probably just wanted me to teach her, nothing else."

"You were my friend Ryan," Tabby stated, sadly.

"We didn't really spent much time together," Ryan continued, looking down again, "apart from our science sessions. It was like, I finally had a friend, you know? And now she's gone."

Greg looked to Tabby again who seemed to be deep in thought.

"Ask about Lewis," Tabby said quickly to Greg. "Ask him if he knew Lewis Thompson."

"Do you know a Lewis Thompson by any chance?" Greg asked Ryan, suddenly.

Ryan quickly looked up.

"Lewis? Of course I know Lewis," Ryan said. "He is a friend... sort of, Tabby introduced us. We share a dorm with Tabby's other friend Orson. Orson isn't my friend."

Greg looked to Tabby who seemed glad. Obviously she was remembering more and more.

After finally getting Ryan to stop babbling on, Greg managed to slip out of the science room and return outside with Tabby trailing along behind him. They sat down again in the car, Greg turning to Tabby.

"Ryan seems nice," Greg stated, plainly.

"He's just as I remember him," Tabby said, smiling.

"So he wasn't lying about anything?"

"No," Tabby answered quickly. "Ryan was a terrible liar. I remember last year Orson threw me a surprise birthday party and Ryan told me almost three weeks before, lying is not his forte."

"He seemed really interested in forensics though," Greg pointed out, recalling all the questions Ryan kept asking about his job on the way out.

"Yeah, from what I remember he really wanted to be one," Tabby responded. "He was really into detective stories and those crime shows, I think he even did a tour of the morgue once to see if he could handle it, but he couldn't."

"But if he is familiar with those things and he is a scientist, he'd have a basic knowledge of how to ensure a crime scene is practically spotless," Greg stated. "And your house was pretty clean of evidence."

"I don't think Ryan could do it, he could barley throw away his football sticker collection because he was scared the people in the pictures would feel him throwing them out," Tabby said, causing Greg to stifle a laugh. "I was really important to Ryan, he looked forward to our Tuesday meetings just as much as I did."

"It seems you mattered to a lot of people," Greg said.

"Don't you?" Tabby asked, looking to the criminalist who pulled back a little.

"What about your other friend, Lewis?" Greg enquired, changing the subject quickly. "Your mom spoke about him as well."

"I don't really remember him," Tabby said, slowly. "His name just suddenly popped into my head. Maybe we should go pay him a visit as well?"

"Maybe it was a sign?" Greg stated, as he turned the engine on.

"You believe in signs now?"

"After you, I'll believe anything," Greg responded, reversing out of the car park and driving off.


	8. The Best Friend

**8. THE BEST FRIEND**

Tabby directed Greg to the east wing of the University Dormitory's, seeming to know her way around very well for someone who didn't actually live in the dorm rooms.

"This is it," Tabby said, gesturing to door number 712. "This whole hallway is shared dorms, three bedrooms in each. Lewis was sharing it with two senior guys two years ago and when they graduated there were two free spaces which I offered to Ryan and then Orson last year."

"How did Lewis feel about that?" Greg asked Tabby as they stood in front of the door.

"Ryan, he was okay with," Tabby explained slowly. "But Orson, he only let move in because I practically begged. He never liked Orson, said he was a bad influence on me. If he had it his way, he would have banned me from even talking to Orson."

"Sounds like a sweet guy," Greg said, sarcastically.

Greg stepped forwards and knocked on the door. They waited a few moments, but there was no answer. Greg glanced to Tabby who shrugged her shoulders. Greg lent forwards and knocked harder, waiting again before they could hear movement on the other side.

A latch was pulled across before the door opened slightly; a tall, lanky man with an equally long skinny face opened the door. His clothes were neat and respectable and his hair was light and well combed, with sprinkles of acne across his forehead.

"Can I help you?" he asked, slowly.

"My name is Greg Sanders, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Greg introduced. "I'm here about Tabby Lawson? She was a friend of yours?"

With that the slightly bored looking man suddenly starting crying, almost melodramatically. He covered his face with his hands, apologizing to Greg between gasps for air. Tabby looked to Greg slightly puzzled.

"I… I'm sorry, it's just… she was… my best friend… in the whole… world," he stammered, Greg reaching into his pocket and offering him a small bag of Kleenex tissues, Lewis taking two.

After a few moments Lewis recovered, his face red as a tomato and his eyes almost just as red.

"Are you okay to talk now?" Greg asked, tentatively and Lewis nodded. "I am very sorry for your loss, but I was wondering if I'd be able to ask you a little bit about Tabby?"

"Um… well I have a class pretty soon so if you can make it quick I'll try to answer as best as I can," Lewis managed, sniffing loudly and causing a few people walking past to stare at him oddly.

"How long did you know Tabby?"

"Since we were children," Lewis explained. "Her mom and my mom met when they were in parenting classes, I was born two days before her in the same hospital. We went to kindergarten, elementary school, high school and now college together. We did everything together; I just can't believe she's gone."

"We really did," Tabby stated, pensively.

"But you didn't work together?" Greg pointed out.

"No, I have a job at a grocery store, have had it for a few years now," Lewis answered. "I offered Tabby a job with me, but she turned it down. She didn't like the idea of staking shelves and not really interacting with people a lot- she was a real people person."

"Yeah, I hear she was good friends with your roommates," Greg asked.

Lewis groaned a little.

"Yeah, she liked to befriend the weird ones," Lewis explained, sourly. "I always just figured she felt sorry for them. Ryan is okay, but Orson's a jerk. Drugged up idiot- treated Tabby like a queen but I know that he was a horrible person deep down. He was just putting on a show so he could get with Tabby."

"You didn't like that idea?"

"Of course not!" Lewis spat. "Tabby deserved much better than him! Luckily she never picked up on his advances; otherwise I would have had to step in."

Greg nodded but noting Lewis' stature and general demeanor, he didn't think he could even take down a sleeping house cat let alone someone like Orson.

"When was the last time you saw Tabby?" Greg asked.

"Thursday night," Lewis answered, quickly. "She was asking for help with our English essay before she went off to work."

"Well Orson Drewer said she left work a bit early on Friday night because you were coming to her house?" Greg pointed out, recalling his conversation with Orson a few hours prior.

Lewis looked a little taken back.

"Well… that was true," Lewis said, quickly. "I was going to go over to help her finish the essay, but I didn't end up going. I called Tabby to let her know."

"What time was that?" Greg asked, pulling out a note book from his jacket pocket and flipping to a blank page.

"Around 8:30."

Greg looked up, raising his eyebrows slightly and nodding.

"Okay," Greg responded.

"Is that all? I really have to get ready for my lesson," Lewis stammered, and Greg noded.

"Thanks for your time," Greg said, before Lewis slammed the door shut and Greg muttered to himself, "That was a bit rude."

Greg turned to Tabby who was still looking at the door where Lewis stood a few seconds ago.

"You okay?" Greg asked.

"That was not the Lewis I remember," Tabby stated firmly, before looking to Greg.

"You remember more about him?"

"Yeah, as soon as he said how long we knew each other I immediately remembered." Tabby responded. "He was never like this."

The two made their way out of the dormitory and returned to Greg's car, Greg feeling quite hungry so he made his way to a nearby diner to have something to eat, Tabby sitting opposite him in the booth in the corner.

"What is food like?"

Greg looked up from his small bowl of pasta.

"Sorry?"

"Food, what's it like?" Tabby repeated, looking closely at the bowl. "I can't really remember."

"Um… it depends on the food I think," Greg answered, a little unsure what to say.

"Well, what's the pasta like?"

"Kind of, spicyish? It's Cabonara so it's creamy?" Greg informed her, however Tabby shook her head.

"I think I used to like it," Tabby responded.

"Have you tried eating?" Greg asked, curiously.

"Yeah, after watching my family eat their dinner," Tabby told him. "I couldn't taste it, couldn't feel it and when I swallowed it, it was just like eating air."

"That's awful," Greg responded.

"That's after-life I guess," Tabby shrugged, sadly.

They continued speaking before a young couple came to sit in the booth beside them and Greg- not wanting to be thrown out- was forced to remain silent for a while. A few more people joined the couples table, the group started to talk very loudly after that, their laughter much louder than anyone else in the diner.

"So tell me about Lewis? What's his story?" Greg asked, seizing his moment to speak.

"He was telling the truth," Tabby explained, leaning her head on her hands. "Our parents are best friends; our mom's mt first and then introduced our families. Lewis's parents are Lucy's God Parents, with my Step-Dad and Lewis' dad being just as close as our mothers were. Our parents liked the idea of us sticking together all the time, so they made sure we were in all the same classes through our schooling, however it wasn't too bad because we had very similar interests. Lewis was always the life of the party; absolutely hilarious, he could recite the same joke over and over again and it would still be funny because he was the one who said it. He was always carefree and joyful and was kind to everyone, that's why I was so shocked when he talked about Orson in the way he did, I had no idea he hated him that much. Orson always said Lewis treated him badly, but I didn't think it was _that_ badly."

"Do you think Lewis was jealous?" Greg asked.

"Not really, he isn't the jealous type," Tabby explained. "In fact, one of his ex-girlfriend's was cheating on him and he didn't break up with her for two whole months after finding out because he just couldn't be bothered calling her. I always thought it was just an older brother protective thing, I mean I always thought of him as part of the family, he even had his own key and with his family being around mine so much-"

"Wait, wait go back," Greg cut off, looking at her intently. "What did you say before?"

"His family was around mine so much?"

"Before that?"

"He was like a brother?"

"No, after that!"

"He had his own key?" Tabby said, getting slightly irritated and hoping this was what he was looking for.

"That could have been how the murderer got in," Greg supposed. "There was no sign of forced entry, and it highly possible that the person who did it knew you fairly well otherwise how would they have shot you from such close range."

"Well, hang on a second," Tabby stated, firmly. "I mean, any one of the three boys could have gotten that key. They live together. And just because there was no force entry doesn't mean it was them, someone could have stolen the key from them?"

"I guess so, but it's the only lead we've got right now," Greg responded.

Tabby sighed a little. He was right, they were a little short on leads and they were now halfway through day four of her two weeks. She hoped that they would have better luck tomorrow, however she knew those remaining days would go incredibly fast.

* * *

**Remember**** to review pretty please!  
Got a great chapter coming next- SPOILERS -a certain CSI member may be joining the case... that's all I'm saying! x**


	9. Sicko My Nicko

**9. SICKO MY NICKO**

With very little else to do, Greg clocked off for the night and Tabby returned to her family for a while. She watched them still sulking around; Lucy had been given some dolls from her bedroom and she played with them quietly in the living room. Lucy seemed distant and very sad; nothing at all like Tabby remembered her, she was always such a happy child.

Eventually she returned to Greg's apartment after she was sick of being ignored, however he had fallen asleep at the dining table over copies of Tabby's crime scene photos. She slowly moved the pictures away and guided the half asleep Greg to his bed, the investigator collapsing down and sleeping instantly. Tabby returned to the dining room and looked over the photographs, feeling a little overwhelmed after a while so she put them back into their folder. She watched a bit of late night TV before she got sick of those frustrating talk shows and turned the TV of, preferring just to sit.

At around eleven Greg's alarm went off and he woke up, showering and changing into jeans and a jacket before making his way down to the open living area, spying Tabby sitting on his couch staring into space.

"What's up?" he yawned.

"The ceiling," Tabby answered, and he glared at her.

"A-ha-ha," Greg said phonetically, making his way over and sitting down beside her. "You okay? You were gone for quite a while earlier?"

"Just went over to see my family again," Tabby responded. "They're pretty much the same, sad as ever."

"Did you expect anything less?"

"I don't know what I expected," Tabby answered. "I guess I never thought about it. Do you?"

"Sometimes," Greg replied. "In my job, it comes up a lot so it's something you've always got to consider."

"You've still got a whole lot of years to go yet Greg," Tabby informed him.

"I bet that's what they said to you too," Greg pointed out.

"Yea,h but you're the hero Greg," Tabby answered. "Have you never seen the action movies? The hero always survives."

"I'm not really a hero," Greg said. "I mean, John McClane, now there's a hero. That guy is freaking immortal man!"

Tabby laughed.

"You are so weird," she said.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Greg teased. "Wait, you do have a reflection right?"

"I'm not a vampire!" Tabby snapped.

"Wait, do they exist too?" Greg asked.

"I don't know!" Tabby retorted. "But if I ever bump into one, I'll give you their number."

"Awesome, thanks," Greg smiled, standing up.

After a quick meal, Greg gathered his stuff for his shift and the two made their way out to Greg's car, arriving at the CSI Lab a few minutes later.

"I'm thinking I'm going to compare photo's to the notes I took during the interviews, check for inconsistences," Greg said to Tabby before making their way into the layout room they had been using a few days prior.

The room however looked very different to how they had left it, with various bits of tire sprawled out across the table.

"Oh, where's my stuff?" Greg asked aloud.

"Sorry Greggo, you got moved."

Greg looked around as his colleague and friend Nick stokes entered the room, wearing a dark blue forensic body suit.

"I can see that," Greg said, slightly irritated as he spied his very small box of evidence that was laid out a few hours ago sitting on the ground. "Well, I'll just find somewhere else-"

"Oh no, not just moved stuff, moved case," Nick said quickly, Greg slowly placing the box down on the table.

"What?"

"Yeah, Gris wants you to help out me and Catherine," Nick explained, slowly. "I got to go search this sweet V8 car that we just brought into the garage and Catherine's stuck out in the desert collecting evidence, so I'm stealing you- apparently your case is a little cold."

"Well not really, I'm just collecting evidence, it's just starting-"

"Okay, it's fine man, I'll let you be then," Nick said quickly, not wanting to irritate Greg.

"It's okay Greg, help him," Tabby said, looking to Greg who looked back at her. "He's right, the case is a little slow and it's probably a very big car."

"You sure?" Greg asked Tabby, before remembering Nick couldn't see her.

Nick looked over to Greg, puzzled.

"Sure about what?" Nick asked.

"I mean… sure!" Greg stammered, quickly. "I'll help you out, no problems!"

Nick lowered his eyebrows before nodding a little.

"Okay, if you're sure," Nick responded.

Nick led Greg and Tabby out of the layout room and through the crime lab hallways before they turned a right and entered the open garage where a large bright blue V8 was parked in the middle of the room.

"Whoa, sweet ride," Greg commended, looking over the car.

"Yeah, pity it was involved in a triple homicide," Nick stated, before taking out a small box-cutter knife from his kit and cutting open the seals over the two doors. "Anyway, we're looking for any evidence of a female being in the car. Basically, our suspect claims he had nothing to do with the victim, however multiple sources say they caught them being a little intimate in the car. If we can prove that, we might just have our guy."

"Great, I'll go interior?" Greg offered and Nick nodded.

Nick took out his torch and began to look over the exterior of the car, paying attention to the paint and looking for marks or signs of where the car had been in the last few hours prior to when they brought it in from the suspects' garage.

Tabby moved out of Nick's way, before walking to the other side of the car, peering through the driver's door to watch Greg looking through the glove compartment, which appeared to be empty. Greg then shone his torch beneath the seat, reaching under it and pulling out a torch and a very tattered looking street directory.

"Found a street directory," Greg said to Nick, flipping through the pages, "and a standard looking torch."

"Basic stuff to have in a car I guess," Nick answered, opening the hood to the car and looking at the car's engine.

Greg gestured to Tabby to look under the drivers' seat and Tabby nodded, moving around the chair to feel underneath before shaking her head.

"Nothing," Tabby said slowly and Greg sighed. "Did you check the compartment in the console?"

Tabby pointed towards the small compartment just below the radio before Greg leant over and opened it, shining the torch inside.

"Hey Nick, can you hand me some tweezers?" Greg asked his colleague.

Nick left the car and picked up some tweezers from his kit by the door before handing them to Greg.

"What have you found?" Nick asked, peering inside the car.

Greg lent forward again and used the tweezers to grasp a small object inside, pulling it out into the light to reveal a used condom.

"Jackpot," Nick said, moving back and picking up a small bag before Greg placed the condom in it. "Well, that's what I call evidence. Good find bro."

"Ah, can't take all the credit," Greg stated, as Nick returned to his kit and placed the evidence bag atop it.

When Nick turned back around, he was suddenly stricken with both fear and confusion as the driver's car door slammed shut without anyone touching it.

"What the hell was that!?" Nick cried, puzzled.

Greg looked to Tabby who gritted her teeth together, having just instinctively closed the car door once she had finished looking through it. Greg looked back to Nick and applied a boggled expression.

"What was what?" Greg asked, quickly.

"The driver door just slammed shut on its own," Nick stammered, walking over to the driver's side of the car whilst Tabby moved the opposite way to avoid him.

"Maybe it was the wind?" Greg supposed, before wishing he hadn't.

"We're inside Greg," Nick stated firmly, looking over the door before looking up to Greg who looked a little nervous.

Nick re-opened the car door, surveying over it and closing it again whilst Tabby jumped over to Greg and they shared a worried glance before looking back to Nick who was still opening and closing the door curiously.

"No, it was definitely something else," Nick deduced, looking over to Greg and lowering his eyes. "Are you okay? You've been looking really on edge lately. Is there something you wanna tell me about Greg?"

Greg quickly shook his head, glancing to Tabby again who looked apologetic.

"Greg?" Nick asked again, walking around the car again and crossing his arms, watching him closely.

Greg sighed a little. There was nothing he could do to get out of it. What else could he say? Make up some scientific mumbo-jumbo that Nick couldn't understand? Nick would just find out what it meant and demand the real answer- Nick wasn't one to let up.

"Okay, fine," Greg said causing Tabby to worry. "It was Tabby-"

"Greg!" Tabby whimpered.

"What do you want me to say?" Greg demanded; looking to Tabby, whilst it appeared to Nick he was looking to thin air. "He saw the door close!"

"Greg, what's goin' on?" Nick asked slowly, looking concerned for his friend.

Greg took a deep breath and gestured towards Tabby.

"This is Tabby," Greg introduced, Tabby waving at Nick even though he couldn't see her. "She's the victim in my case. She's dead… but she came back… as a ghost… and now she's helping me with my... her... investigation."

There was silence for a while, before Nick burst out in loud laughter, practically falling onto the car and holding onto the rear view mirrors in order to stay up. Tabby and Greg just watched him, both unsure what to say.

"_The sensitive one_ my ass," Tabby stated, plainly.

Nick finally recovered, wiping his eyes and smiling.

"That's a good one Greg," he commended, before returning his face to serious. "But seriously what's going on? Is this some kind of lab rat prank I'm not in on?"

"No, I told you the truth," Greg responded, firmly. "Tabby is real; she's standing right next to me. She was looking in the car and closed the door accidentally."

"No more mucking around Greg-"

"I'm not mucking around!" Greg retorted, quite cross that one of his best friend's wouldn't believe him. "Tabby, prove it. Do something."

"I'm not a circus monkey," Tabby snapped, Greg looking at her with pleading eyes so she yielded.

She sighed and crossed the floor to the whiteboard in the corner.

"Greg, please, I think you need some time off-"

"Shush, look!" Greg pointed to the whiteboard.

The marker below the board slowly seemed to pick itself up and write in dark, bold letters across the board, "**BELIEVE ME NOW?**"

Nick's eyes quickly went from bemused to absolutely terrified, almost jumping out from their sockets as his jaw dropped the ground. He pointed at the board, where the marker still seemed to float in midair due to Tabby holding it.

"What… how… that…!?" Nick stammered, unable to get any words out.

"It was Tabby," Greg told him firmly. "I don't know how but she came back as a ghost and I'm the only one who can see her. I've been trying to solve her case for days on my own, but you're right, the case has gone a bit cold-"

"No pun intended," Tabby interjected.

"-And unless I solve it before this time next week, she'll disappear forever and never know what truly happened," Greg finished, Nick still seeming shocked. "So there you go Nick, that's what closed the door, that's why I've been acting strange. Now you can report me for madness if you want, but one way or another I am going to solve this case."

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**Sorry for how long it has taken for me to update this. Remember to review x**


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